


Lavender Love

by staymagical



Series: Keithtober 2019 [12]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 1950s, Airforce, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Military, Blackmail, Interrogation, Lavender Scare, M/M, Neither incest or rape have or will occur, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Threats, insinuations of incest, insinuations of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 00:28:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21045296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staymagical/pseuds/staymagical
Summary: 1954: Seymour Airforce Base, NCThere's nothing else in the world that can rival the thrill of flying. Except Lance of course.When Keith joined the airforce, he never expected to fall in love. He blames Lance for that, and Shiro for giving him the courage to break social norms and follow his heart. On the surface, they are nothing more than friends, but behind closed doors, their tender love shines bright. And Keith is happier than he ever thought he would be.That is until the investigations begin.“This isn’t funny Lance!” Keith hisses.Lance’s gaze finds his and he sighs with a shrug. “I never said it was.” He takes another sip of his beer, giving the two officers a side glance. “We’re not doing anything wrong. They can’t arrest us for sitting at a bar.”“Hasn’t stopped them before.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Partially for Keithtober Day 14: AU of Choice
> 
> This fic is based on the Lavender Scare, a real-life historical event that took place alongside the Red Scare back in the 1950s. It was a witch-hunt, persecution, and mass-firing of homosexual people in the United States government, from the lowest in the military to highest ranking officeholders. People were arrested and interrogated for hours for no reason other than being a homosexual under the guise of being at risk to communist threats and influence. 
> 
> Not a single homosexual person fired during this time was ever discovered to be or have communist ties.
> 
> I started this series on Instagram a while back and just now finished it under the pressures of Keithtober. It all began when I listened to Episode 93: Lavender Scare of the podcast Criminal (highly, highly recommend, it's an amazing podcast) and because I had never heard or knew anything about this historical event, I dove down a deep research rabbit hole. And this story was born. 
> 
> So, I hope you enjoy this story and maybe, perhaps, you'll learn some history along the way.

_ 1954: Seymour Airforce Base, NC _

There is nothing else in this world that can rival the thrill of flying. Nothing and Keith can wholly attest to that fact. Weightless, with his heart in his throat as he spins and dips and dives, and rolls through the air, fully in control of the powerful metal bird in his hands. 

There is nothing like it. Truly nothing.

“Ha!” Lance crows over the distant roar of jet engines as he jumps down from the cockpit, helmet in hand, his smile bright enough to eclipse the late afternoon sun. Unbidden, a mirrored grin of his own tugs at the corner of Keith’s lips. “Did you see that?!”

“You mean my perfect defensive spiral?” Keith runs a hand through his hair, pushing errant strands out of his eyes. He doesn’t miss the way Lance’s eyes follow his movement.

“Near perfect,” Lance corrects with a pointed finger, plowing through from exhilarated to cocky in the span of a heartbeat. Keith bites down on a chuckle. “I was right there with you.”

“In your dreams, McClain.”

Lance leans in close and Keith can perfectly make out the faint freckles dotting his tanned skin and the mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Yes,” Lance whispers and good god that tone, “Yes you are.”

Keith tries not to choke on the sharp inhale as heat floods his veins to settle conspicuously in his cheeks. “Lance,” he hisses, warning. 

Of course, the bastard laughs, taking advantage of Keith’s momentary short-circuit to set the pace back to the barracks. He throws wink and cheeky grin over his shoulder for good measure and Keith’s heart lodges itself in his throat.

Oh, this man will surely be the death of him. 

Keith shakes his head, jogging to catch up. He falls into step beside him, adjusting the helmet under his arm and using his other hand to fiddle with his flight suit, desperately needing something to do with his hands as his heart tries valiantly to beat itself out of his chest.

“Hey.” Lance breaks the silence, shooing away the tension settling on Keith’s shoulders. Keith glances over at him, taking note of how the sun highlights his features until he’s nearly glowing in its rays just before the shadows of the barracks swallows them both. “I got the last Captain America comic in my room if you want to read it.” He thumbs down the right corridor. 

Keith raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Lance nods, another cheeky grin sliding into place and if this wasn’t normal behavior for Lance, Keith would think he was up to something. “I think you’ll like it.”

Keith just shrugs, following Lance down the corridor to his room.

He makes it all of two steps into Lance’s small quarters before the door slams shut and Keith finds himself pinned by a pair of strong arms. Both their helmets clatter to the floor.

And then Lance is kissing him, hard and urgent, like his next breath will be his last and this is all he wants in his last few minutes on this earth. Keith returns in kind, scrabbling for Lance’s hips and pulling him against him with the same sort of ferocity. It’s off-center and messy but Keith corrects it between one kiss and the next until they are both heated and burning from the inside out. 

“Just so we’re clear,” Keith stutters out on an intoxicated breath as Lance moves down to suckle at his collarbone. And god how does he already sound so wrecked? “I’m still going to need that comic.”

Lance chuckles, breath ghosting over his skin and setting it alight with goosebumps. Keith shivers. “Oh no,” Lance says, peppering a few more kisses at the base of his throat, “you won’t like it, it’s awful.”

“But,” Keith begins, “you said—”

Lance pulls back and his eyes are burning so blue it takes Keith’s breath away. “Yeah,” he chuckles, breathless and teasing. “I wasn’t talking about the comic, love.”

Keith frowns. “You weren’t talking—oh.” And he would chuckle if he had any breath left in his lungs. As it is, he settles for pulling Lance flush against him and letting his hands wander as he leans back in. “Well then, get on with it, will you.”

Lance smirks against his lips. “My pleasure, Lieutenant.” 

Ok so maybe there’s one _ person _ that can rival the thrill of flying.

* * *

“Adam’s been arrested.”

Lance’s chipper greeting dies in his throat with Shiro’s words, his tone somber and grave like a nail in a coffin.

Because it is, and they all know it.

“What?!” Keith hisses with drawn brows. He glances around the hanger to ensure no one is watching or overhearing them before leaning closer. “When?”

Shiro mirrors his glances before jerking his head toward the tarmac and out of the large echoing hanger where sound can easily carry to unsavory ears. Best not to push their luck.

Lance and Keith drop their rags and fall into step beside Shiro, each donning the role of subordinates in the eyes of the base. 

“This morning.” Shiro’s brow is furrowed, eyes shimmering on the edge of a dangerous emotion. “On his way to the control tower.”

Lance curses. When the rumors of internal investigations began circulating the base, he and Keith were still new and he was flying much too high on the back of love to realize the danger it imposed. After all, he had known about Adam and Shiro for months back then and they were still going strong, soaring under the radar like they’d been doing for years. They were infallible, unbreakable, the idols he looked up to and held in the highest regard. And they still were.

But with Adam’s arrest, Lance didn’t feel so secure in him and Keith’s ability to remain inconspicuous.

No one was safe anymore. Especially—

“Shiro.” Keith’s tone is low, a warning filled with fear and anger and it’s so similar to the tone he took with Lance not twelve hours ago in this very spot. A shiver runs down Lance’s spine feeling too much like foreboding. 

Shiro bats his hand through the air between them like he can shoo away the guillotine above his future. “I know. I know.”

Lance can see Keith wants to argue, he always wants to argue when his loved ones are at risk, but Lance cuts in before he can start off on a rant.

“Are you okay?” he asks Shiro.

Shiro shakes his head minutely without taking his eyes off the planes on the tarmac. “No, not really. The rumors about these investigations, the arrests—” he lowers his eyes, voice turning solemn. “This will ruin him.”

“He’ll be okay,” Keith says and Lance nods in agreement he doesn’t feel. His hands twitch behind his back, restraining the urge to lay a comforting hand on Shiro’s shoulder. 

“I have to resign.”

Both Lance and Keith’s heads whip toward him in unison, eyes wide.

“Now what a minute—” Keith begins.

“Look,” Shiro continues, turning to face them for the first time since they walked out onto the tarmac, “if they discharge Adam, it’s only a matter of time before they come for me, you know that. And one of us has to keep standing or we’ll both fall.”

Keith’s eyes flare. “You don’t know that. This could be a scare tactic. A fluke.”

“Since when have any of these arrests been flukes?” Shiro scoffs, the sound dry and grating.

“It could be!”

“Keith,” Lance says, a warning now of his own. Because he can see Keith is boiling over, his anger bleeding out in volume and gestures that aren’t entirely unnoticeable where they stand in the public eye. Keith takes a breath, giving Lance a nod to say he understands but his eyes still blaze.

Shiro turns back to the tarmac and watches a Mustang barrel down the runway and take flight with a scream of engines. When the sound dies down, he says, “You two need to lie low. They’re probably going to start giving you a tail because of us.”

Ice travels down Lance’s spine, setting the hairs on the back of his neck on end. He forces himself to keep still, to not take a paranoid glance behind him to see if anyone is watching. 

“Shiro please, just don’t resign yet.” Keith is tense, his back a band of anxiety that pulls his shoulders taut and adds creases to his brow. “Promise me you’ll think about it.”

Shiro nods, face set in a hard line. “I already have.” With that, he turns sharply back toward the hanger in clear dismissal, leaving them alone on the tarmac.

Keith breaks first with a quiet whisper of, “Lance—”

Something in Lance bristles and shakes with trepidation and the threat of losing everything he has worked so hard for, everything he has come to love and cherish. His job. His future. 

Keith. 

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: I know nothing of the Air Force so please excuse or let me know of any mistakes. There's only so much one can glean from Wikipedia.
> 
> Also, check out my Instagram for more Klance and VLD drabbles and short fics: [staymagwrites](https://www.instagram.com/staymagwrites/)


	2. Chapter 2

Shiro quietly resigns a day later when the news of Adam’s arrest and subsequent confession and discharge has spread throughout the base. 

They are both gone within the hour.

And Keith feels a piece of himself leave with them.

His reason for enlisting, for joining the fight, for instilling faith in his country, has left and now he just feels...

Lost.

A gentle elbow to his shoulder brings Keith back to the present and the lively streets him and Lance are weaving through. Fellow uniformed service members are out in droves taking advantage of the last of the warm summer nights and the flirty girls in short knee-length flowing skirts living their lives by the post-WWII propaganda of finding a husband and making babies. 

The epitome of everything Keith and Lance aren’t.

“Hey, how you holding up?” Lance asks, voice low and edged with concern. His eyes are soft, caressing but not nearly enough to quell the roiling turmoil brewing in Keith’s chest. Torn between wanting to curl up in Lance’s arms and forget about the world and let the rage take hold and burn the entirety of the base to the ground.

“I’m not really in the mood to go out tonight.” Keith feels off, his skin cold and jittery. He needs touch right now, more than he’d care to ever admit and being in the public eye _i__sn’t helping. _

Lance shoves his hands in his pockets. “We go out every Friday night. Can’t stray from tradition.” He tries for a light-hearted grin but its strained, forced and he lets it fall after a beat with a sigh and a muttered, “Got to keep up appearances.” 

Keith scowls on a nod. He knows Lance is right. Right now is a dangerous and delicate moment for them since Shiro and Adam’s dismissal. They’re every move is being scrutinized, the secret of their relationship teetering on the edge of the knife. One centimeter out of line and everything they’ve built will crumble, sliced to ribbons in the way down.

So he walks beside Lance, burying his heart deep beneath his breast in favor of the charade, playing the part, living a lie. Like the good little soldier they all want him to be.

Because he has to. Because he needs to. 

Because while he may not have much skin in the game with no family left and few friends that don’t already know of his so-called perverse proclivities, Lance does. 

And Keith won’t jeopardize that.

But neither will he give Lance up. He’d rather be shunned and shamed and dragged through the mud, strung up in the town square for all to see than to give up the most important person in his life. 

He loves his job, loves the Air Force, loves flying. But he loves Lance more.

And Lance’s whole life would crumble if he was arrested and outed to the world.

Lively music spills out onto the streets as a boisterous group of officers and rosy-cheek girls stumble out onto the pavement from the dance hall across the road. Keith watches them, how casual they are, paired off with hands on backs and arms linked together. Open, touching, flirting. 

He wants that. Desperately. 

“Keith?”

Lance stands by the bar door, holding it open for him with brows creased ever so slightly. Keith just nods, slipping through the door and ignoring Lance’s concern. He goes to the back to snag a table as Lance weaves his way through the mingling crowd to the bar. 

A brief flash of movement from his peripheral has Keith glancing back toward the door. A pair of uniformed military police officers enter the bar and that alone wouldn’t mean anything. After all, the whole town is filled with members from the base.

But a nagging feeling tells him they aren’t here to have a pint. One of them glances over toward where Keith sits, looking away quickly when he’s caught.

And that confirms it.

“We were followed,” Keith murmurs as Lance joins him at the table, two beers in hand. 

“Good thing we didn’t venture into a gay bar then, isn’t it,” Lance says taking a sip of his beer like it’s any other Friday night.

“This isn’t funny Lance!” Keith hisses.

Lance’s gaze finds his and he sighs with a shrug. “I never said it was.” He takes another sip of his beer, giving the two officers a side glance. “We’re not doing anything wrong. They can’t arrest us for sitting at a bar.”

“Hasn’t stopped them before.”

And Keith is sure some malevolent power is lurking in the shadows then because the two officers start making a beeline for their table. 

Keith glares down at his beer as Lance’s hand tightens ever so slightly around his own glass.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Lance’s tone is chipper, the grin tugging at his lips belying the tension in his shoulders as the men stop before their table. He tips his glass at them. “Care to join us, good sirs.”

One stands a head taller than the other, towering over their table as he eyes them. “What are you two doing here?”

“Uh, having a beer?” Lance raises his glass for emphasis, grin never faltering.

“Is that all?” The taller of the two asks, his eyebrows raised. The other gives Keith a once over, judgment and scrutiny flashing in his eyes. Keith glares back. “Why aren’t you two at the dance hall with the ladies?”

Lance shrugs. “I wanted a pint, sir.”

They turn to Keith, expectant. He swallows the anger burning his throat and all but growls, “The jitterbug isn’t my thing.”

The officer returns Keith glare with equal loathing. “You sure about that, son?”

It’s a threat, goading words promising retribution for a crime that shouldn’t be a crime to begin with, for one that isn’t obvious on the surface so Keith knows the man is just fishing for a reaction. And damn does Keith want to give it to him. He wants to let the rage take ahold and deck the man in the face, to defend Lance and Shiro and Adam and everyone else like them, to defend their right to be as they are, to love who they want, to just _ live a normal life like everyone else. _

But it’s what the man wants and Keith refuses to give in no matter how good it will feel. So he chokes on his fury and drowns under the weight of society’s arbitrary view on normalcy and hides behind the wretched mask of conformity.

“Yeah, pretty sure.”

Lance must see the bowing of Keith’s restraint, how it threatens to break for he quickly interjects. “Did you need something?”

The two men take pause, studying Lance and Keith with forewarning gazes that sear into the very marrow of their bones. And Keith realizes they’ve done this before, may even be the very men who watched and waited in the shadows for Adam to slip up, for Shiro to show his true colors before striking like vipers in the brush to bring down their prey. 

Rage nearly consumes him then and there.

“No,” the shorter one says, his tone deep and grating. “Just a reminder to behave yourselves. Wouldn’t want to catch you two in any sort of compromising position.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Lance says, his previous cheer sliding from his face like melted ice cream off a cone.

And just like that, the two men leave the bar, melting into the crowded streets as though they had never been there.

But they had. And Keith is not naive enough to think this is the end of the matter. They’ll pop up again soon enough.

He can’t focus on that now. One glance over at Lance and he knows he has much bigger things to worry about. 

“Lance?” He’s itching to reach out and quell the shaking of Lance’s hands, to ease the fear from his brow and the stutter in his breath. “Are you—”

“So did you hear what Pidge found on the scanners the other day?”

Lance cuts him off easily, startling Keith with his reversion to normalcy. Casual, nonchalant like they hadn’t just been threatened by the very government they work for. Like their futures and lives aren’t hanging in the balance.

Appearances. He’s trying to keep up appearances. 

But Keith can see that his hands are still trembling where he tries to hide one below the table, how he grips his beer harder until his knuckles are nearly white with strain. And he knows that if he were to lay his hand over Lane’s chest, his heart would be beating rapidly like a caged bird being poked and prodded. 

Just like Keith’s is now. 

“We should go.” Keith suddenly feels exposed, like an ant caught in the burning hot flare of a magnifying glass, incinerating under the watchful eye of the government until there’s nothing left. 

And they both need some comforting touch from the other right about now. Desperately.

“No.” Lance’s face is drawn, weary as his tips his glass to his lips. “No, we can’t. I’ve got to finish my beer.”

“Forget the damn beer, Lance! Don’t you see—”

Lance slams his glass on the wooden table with a crack that stuns Keith to silence and attracts the attention of a few tables nearby. 

“Of course I see,” he hisses, leaning toward Keith with his voice low so as not to draw any more eyes upon them. “I’m not an idiot despite what everyone says. But there’s nothing for it. They’ll do what they’ll do and all we can do is grin and bear it and try and go about our lives. So that’s what I’m doing. I’m going about my life, drinking my beer on a Friday night with my fri-friend.” They both ignore how he stumbles over the inadequate word like a toddler learning it for the first time. “Like we do every Friday and will continue to do every Friday.”

Keith has never hated society more than he does right now.

Watching Lance struggle, the confidence, strong heart, and joking demeanor Keith had fallen for crumbling like bricks before his very eyes all because some seem them a threat. An abnormal cell that can easily turn cancerous and needs to be cut out before it brings the whole host down. 

And all Keith can do is sit and watch helplessly as the man he loves is picked apart, piece by piece. 

As they both are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: I know nothing of the Air Force so please excuse or let me know of any mistakes. There's only so much one can glean from Wikipedia.
> 
> Also, check out my Instagram for more Klance and VLD drabbles and short fics: [staymagwrites](https://www.instagram.com/staymagwrites/)


	3. Chapter 3

It isn’t until they are seated at the wooden table beneath the maple tree, red leaves littering the tabletop as the sweet aroma of grilled onions and seasoned beef from the burger shack surround them that Lance pulls out the device.

“Is this what I think it is?” he asks, sliding the small piece of technology across the table toward Pidge. Her eyes go wide, magnified behind her round thick glasses as she pushes them further up her nose. She picks up the device, holding it delicately between her fingers as she examines it, Hunk and Keith ignoring their burgers in favor of leaning in to get a better look.

There’s a hard set to Pidge’s eyes when she meets Lance’s gaze. “Where did you get this?”

“Found it in my clock.”

“In your clock?” Hunk interrupts, holding his hand out wordlessly for the device. Pidge hands it over, brow furrowed in concentration as Hunk fingers the antenna and wires. “Shit.”

Lance pops a fry into his mouth and chews methodically, barely tasting it. “Yeah, shit.”

He scratches at his neck, the skin there tight and tingling with an itch he has yet been unable to scratch. Perhaps its stress, the constant feeling of eyes on him, watching him, judging him, evaluating his every move. None of this has been easy, but before this morning, he had been able to find solace in the privacy of his own room—although sleep has been sparse lately. There, he had felt safest, away from the prying eyes and ears, away from the stares and looks his fellow airmen shot him. As far as he was concerned, everyone was watching him.

And now he can’t even hide in his own goddamn room.

“Is that a bug?” Keith interjects. His voice is low, threatening. Lance glances over at him, hoping to catch his attention, to take some comfort from him the only way they can now, but Keith only has eyes for the device.

“Yeah,” Pidge says, confirming what Lance had already suspected. Hunk hands Pidge back the bug and she flips it over, poking at the rounded end. “Not one of ours though. Fuck.”

“Can you tell how long it has been in operation?” Keith asks and finally their eyes meet across the table reflecting the same fear.

Were they listening that night after training? Did they know about them?

No, they couldn’t have. Him and Keith wouldn’t be here right now if they had, right? They would have been arrested so fast, they wouldn't have even known they were under investigation until it was too late. What they had said to each other, what they had done, there was no way to misconstrue that. 

“I’ll have to open her up,” Pidge answers, fiddling with the ends of the bug. The furrow in her brow deepens and she looks up once again at Lance. “You have a new neighbor next to you, right?”

Lance nods around another mouthful of fries. “Yeah, Griffin moved barracks a few weeks ago.” It had been odd, to say the least. They had been neighbors for over a year and not had any issues and even if they had, the base usually didn’t move people unless it was an emergency or a special circumstance. Lance nearly chokes as understanding hits him. “Shit, they’re next door aren’t they.”

Pidge nods, holding up the bug in emphasis. “Have to be.”

Shit shit shit. Lance thinks back to when he saw Griffin, bags in hand as he explained that he was being transferred over to the other barracks. What had Lance done in his room since then? What had he said? Had he and Keith—

No. Not since the day before Adam’s arrest. They’d been on high alert since then, even more so since the night at the bar, nerves alight, looking over their shoulders at every turn. Not even a stolen kiss in the darkest of corners much to Lance’s dismay. Keith’s as well judging by how on edge he has been since.

Lie low, that’s what Shiro had said. And that’s what they were doing.

Lance had thought it was working, that they were keeping in line and quelling the tide of suspicion that had been washing over them from the aftershocks of Shiro’s resignation. Until he’d knocked his clock over this morning and the small listening device popped out.

Now, he’s not sure it will ever be over. Not until they have cut all perversion from their lives or broken under the pressure, whichever came first.

A sudden fear seizes Lance’s lungs and he catches Keith’s attention once more. “You should check your room as well.”

“I will,” he says with a nod. “And Lance, here.” Keith reaches across the table, offering Lance a wad of napkins. 

Lance sees it for what it is.

Keith’s fingers rub gently against his as their hands meet for the exchange. It’s the barest of touches but Lance soaks it up like water in the desert. And when their eyes meet for that split second, Keith’s burn bright into his, an eclipse of the sun. But Lance can’t look away, doesn’t want to look away. He’ll gladly go blind if it means he never has to look away from Keith again.

Because now more than ever, when their relationship is the most dangerous, the most risky, that’s when they need each other the most. To stand strong against the tide that strives to break them down. To break them apart.

Now that nowhere is safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: I know nothing of the Air Force so please excuse or let me know of any mistakes. There's only so much one can glean from Wikipedia.
> 
> Also, check out my Instagram for more Klance and VLD drabbles and short fics: [staymagwrites](https://www.instagram.com/staymagwrites/)


	4. Chapter 4

They are waiting for him on the tarmac after training.

At ease with hands behind their backs, the MP patch on their shoulders is still indiscernible from six hundred miles per hour three hundred feet in the air but he knows it’s there. He knows what they’re here for.

They’re here for him.

For a fleeting moment, the urge to pull up and disappear into the clouds is so strong his breath quickens and hands begin to shake. But he knows he won’t make it far. They’d catch up with him in no time and the charges against him would only obtain substance. 

And he can’t leave Lance. 

He takes a deep breath, suddenly hyper-aware of his surroundings, the hum of the bird beneath his fingertips, the smell of stale air filtering in through his mask, how peaceful it is up here. It’s an extraordinarily beautiful day for so late in the year, the clouds few and far between allowing the sun’s rays to illuminate the landscape in enhanced colors. Training went well this day, better than most actually despite Lance’s absence from the skies. 

Ironic that this has become his last run.

But he thanks all the stars in the universe now that Lance has other duties to attend to today. That he isn’t here to be subjected to or witness what is to come. It’s bad enough as it is.

As he lands, Keith can see the men’s presence on the tarmac hasn’t gone unnoticed by fellow airmen. Most don’t even bother to disguise their interest in the event unfolding, clustering together and openly watching as the group of MP approach the aircraft with measured steps. 

Keith ignores them. There’s not a thing he can do and that fact alone is nearly enough to tear him apart. It’s taking all his willpower not to run as they surround him. 

“Keith Kogane.” A clean-cut grey-haired man steps forward to address him, ignoring Keith’s rank and title. He glares at the MP for the slight. “You are under arrest.”

Keith shifts his weight, the grip on his helmet nearly painful as he straightens under their scrutiny. “On what charges?” he asks with a tilt of his head. He refuses to cower under their onslaught. 

Instead of answering his question, one of the men steps forward at a nod from the former speaker, pulling Keith’s arms behind his back none too gently and securing them with a pair of cold metal cuffs. And god, Keith would laugh if he weren’t currently being made a spectacle of. Because that’s all this was, a show. The MP rarely used handcuffs unless absolutely necessary and this was absolutely not necessary. They all knew it.

They just want to frog march him past his peers off to god only knows where. Put him on display, make an example of him.

“I haven’t done anything wrong!” Keith grits his teeth as he’s jerked forward by his arm, trying to quell the tidal wave of fear and anxiety clawing at his chest and clogging his airways. 

It’s a feeling he has not known for some time. Bone deep and all-encompassing, one that ignites his flight rather than fight instinct. A fear born from an innate sense of self-preservation. He’ll mourn the job he loves, ache with the desire to sit in the cockpit again, but that’s manageable. Something he can ignore, something he will get over with time, he hopes.

Lance, however, he knows he’ll never get over. Not in this lifetime, or the next.

But if they are arresting Keith now, then they could very well be arresting those he associates with. 

He just has to hope Lance has somehow managed to escape their persecution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: I know nothing of the Air Force so please excuse or let me know of any mistakes. There's only so much one can glean from Wikipedia.
> 
> Also, check out my Instagram for more Klance and VLD drabbles and short fics: [staymagwrites](https://www.instagram.com/staymagwrites/)


	5. Chapter 5

“Lance McClain.”

Lance leans back in the hard metal chair, trying to ignore the cold unforgiving room and ease his features into a mirage of calm confidence he doesn’t feel. “Lieutenant McClain,” he corrects, heart racing beneath his uniform.

The stocky balding man before him shakes his head, bushy eyebrows drawn together until they melt into one and harden the rest of his features. “Not anymore, not after what you’ve done.” He drops into the chair across the table from Lance, throwing the manila folder onto its surface to lay between them like an accusation. Which, Lance determines, it is.

He’s just glad the handcuffs are gone now. Terror unlike anything he had ever felt coursed through his veins when they’d slapped them on his wrists and led him away, parading his arrest through the barracks like a circus show for all to gawk at. It had been humiliating and degrading but he’d barely been able to acknowledge the stares, fear overshadowing all else.

But it’s nothing compared to the fear of what Keith will do when word reaches him of Lance’s arrest. 

If he hasn’t already been arrested himself.

“And what exactly have I done, sir?” Lance asks, crossing his arms in an attempt to hide the slight tremor that has taken hold.

The man eyes him for a beat, before tilting the folder toward himself and opening it with a nonchalant flick of his wrist. Lance catches sight of a few papers filled with typed notes and text before its tilted out of view. “High risk to national security. Fraternizing with other men. Easily susceptible to blackmail and coercion. Possible commie spy or informant.” The man looks back up at Lance over the top of the folder. He waves a hand at the papers with a hardness in his eyes. “There’s plenty more here.”

A communist spy? Susceptible to blackmail? It takes all of Lance’s will to keep his expression impassive. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Oh, really?” The man raises an eyebrow, closing the folder and setting it aside. Lance tenses with the sudden shift in the room. “You were friends with Adam West, were you not? You must be aware by now of the circumstances of his discharge?”

Lance grits his teeth and scowling, says, “I know he did nothing wrong.”

“His proclivities toward other men say otherwise.” Lance doesn’t miss the revulsion in the officer’s tone like he’s stepped in something rotten that won’t wash off. That revulsion bleeds into his eyes as he narrows them at Lance. “As do yours.”

Lance tips the chair back until he’s balancing on just two legs. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Time becomes blurred after that, measured only in the revolutions of questions and the ache that slowly builds in Lance’s backside from sitting idle in a hard chair. But Lance doesn’t bend, feigning ignorance or uncertainty and he can tell the officer is growing weary of this match. He slams his fists on the table, the questions slowly turning into spitting threats and demands to confess. 

But Lance still doesn’t know what exactly they want him to confess to. Not that he will, whatever it is. He just lets the officer’s demands hang in the air between them, threatening and suffocating every time it’s brought to light again.

Because Lance is growing weary too. He’s tired of the constant berating and degradation of his character, the insults and cutting remarks chipping away at his resolve. He just wants it to be over, to be released so he can fall into his bed and sleep until this day is nothing but a distant memory. But they won’t, he knows this. If the mass-firings around the country are anything to go by, it’s only about to get worse.

It’s then that the door opens and a younger lanky officer enters the room with a clack of polished shoes. He gives Lance a sneering glance as he stalks over to the stocky officer before they turn their backs to him, heads together in whispered discussion.

With their attention off him, Lance allows the exhaustion creeping through his veins wash over him, his body aching in more than just his backside now after being on edge and tense for so long. His nerves are fried, the trembling in his hands no longer just from fear. He’s nearing the end of his rope, mentally and physically, he knows this.

_ Just a bit longer. Hold on just a bit longer.  _

_ For your future. For Keith.  _

After a minute, the two officers turn around, approaching the table with calm demeanors that set Lance even further on edge.

Something has changed, the tension in the air coalescing into a danger that can’t be perceived. Yet. But he’s about to find out.

“Confess and all this can go away.” The balding officer leans forward, bracing his hands on the table as he leers down at Lance. “Lieutenant Kogane is being interrogated as we speak and he has some pretty damning evidence against you.”

The world freezes over.

He knows, logically he goddamn  _ knows _ Keith would rather implicate himself than throw Lance under the bus. Well, at least he hopes. But the last few hours have worn him down to a brittle shell until fact and fiction have blurred, indiscernible from one another.

“Wh-what?” Lance stammers. He doesn’t miss their use of Keith’s ranking title, as though they still consider him an airman. Unlike Lance.

“He told us what you did,” the younger officer steps in. His tone is harsh, sharp, the bite to the other officer’s bark and Lance can’t help but lean away from him. “How you forced yourself on him, tried to blackmail and coerce him, how he had no choice but to give in.” 

“I—I didn’t—”

“Did you have these desires toward your father?” the older officer carries on the attack. “Your brothers? Nephews? You ever tried to force yourself on them—”

“No!” Lance reels at such an accusation, horror and revulsion washing through him so strong he’s afraid he’ll be sick right there. “NO! God, what the fuck—”

Again, the younger officer cuts him off with a huff. “How do you think they’d feel knowing their son is a pervert, a pedophile. To know you’re a threat to the nation and national security because you can’t keep your dick in your pants when it comes to other men and little boys.”

Nausea creeps up Lance's throat, choking him, stealing his breath until all he can do is stammer out a breathless, “I—I don’t—”

“We could tell them you know.” Both officers are smirking now, watching Lance crumble before them as threats turn to promises. “Your friends too. I’m sure they’d all love to know exactly what kind of person you are.”

His family, his friends. Such slander will devastate them, turn society against them. They’ll cast him out, loathe the very thought of him until he’s nothing but a stain on the family tree, a nightmare tale for future generations. He would never be able to go home, never see his family again. 

Ever.

Lance jerks to the side as nausea overwhelms him and empties his stomach contents all over the tile floor. Both the officers barely flinch, taking calm steps back from the table to avoid the splattering of sick.

The lanky officer scoffs, flinging invisible sick from his pristine shoes. But his face betrays his enjoyment of Lance’s pain. “Your family would be disgusted, horrified. Is that what you want? To hurt your family?” He pauses, scrutinizing Lance’s heaving form. “For them to know the real you.”

The balding one slams his hands on the table loud and obtrusive in the small space. “Confess.”

“Stop it,” Lance croaks, just this side of begging. Tears, hot and shameful blur his vision as he spits and straightens up in the chair. But he doesn’t care anymore. He’s beyond exhausted and sick and just needs everything to stop. 

Because he suddenly realizes it doesn’t matter. It never did. The minute they set their sights on him, he was guilty of whatever they fantasized. They could manipulate anyone, any document, anything to stack up the evidence against him. Hell, they probably didn’t even need evidence. Nothing he ever did or would ever do could change the outcome. 

So why fight anymore?

“We’ve already dispatched a man to go break the news. We can call him off.”

_ I’m sorry. _

“Alright.” He’s shocked at how strong his voice is, raw but steady even on the last vestiges of his energy. “Alright, stop.”

“Whatever it is, I’ll sign it. Just stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: I know nothing of the Air Force so please excuse or let me know of any mistakes. There's only so much one can glean from Wikipedia.
> 
> Also, check out my Instagram for more Klance and VLD drabbles and short fics: [staymagwrites](https://www.instagram.com/staymagwrites/)


	6. Chapter 6

Keith grits his teeth as he shoves his clothes into his duffle.

Dishonorable discharge. 

Honestly, he expected worse. He knew they’d toss him out, discharge him with the least amount of dignity, but he expected to be thrown about a bit with how much the officers seemed to despise the very thought of him.

He almost wishes they had.

Because now he’s just left with no physical evidence for the rage and despair he feels. And a grimy coat of vulnerability.

They didn’t lay a finger on him and yet he feels violated, dirty, ashamed due to mere accusations and words. Like all the insults they threw at him have embedded into his skin, forever a reminder of how the world sees him. 

_ I’m fine. This is fine. I’m alive and I’m fine. _

Except he’s not, but that’s something he’ll unpack at a later date. Right now he has more pressing matters.

Like finding Lance.

Keith slams the door on his piloting dreams and races down the hallway toward Lance’s room. He’s been allotted only one hour to gather his things and leave the base. Or be forcibly removed. 

Which they will have to if he doesn’t find Lance  _ right now _ .

Because he’s not leaving here without at least seeing him, to explain what has happened, why he has to go. Without making sure Lance is alright and remains so.

He sidesteps a few cadets in the halls, their excited chatter morphing into hushed whispers as he brushes past. But he can’t bring himself to care. Let them whisper, let them stare. It won’t matter soon anyway. He’ll be long gone, never to see them or this base ever again.

The thought offers relief while simultaneously leaving cracks in his heart.

He rounds the corner, his duffle hitting the wall in his haste and Lance’s door comes into view.

A wave of relief washes over him when he sees the door wide open and the silhouette of his love, back to him, in amongst the shadows.

“Lance,” he breathes, the fear and shame and anguish of the last hour or two suddenly eclipsed by Lance’s mere presence. Because this right here, this is right. The swelling in his heart, soothing in his chest, the tenderness that thrums through his veins. 

Love of the purest kind. And it just feels  _ right. _

It’s only when he’s in the room, reaching out to lay a hand on Lance’s shoulder that Keith notices Lance is shaking. 

A different sort of fear, stronger and more intense, squeezes his lungs. 

Something is wrong.

“Lance?” he ventures, louder, finally making contact. Lance tenses beneath his hand but Keith keeps his touch gentle and soothing as he steps in front of him, both for Lance’s sake and to keep himself from giving in to the panic that claws at his throat. “Are you alright?

In the dim light from the hallway, Keith can just barely make out Lance’s features. He’s pale, features drawn into deep lines of sorrow and anguish with eyes that are red-rimmed and glossy. 

“No.” The word is no more than a croak between cracked lips as a tear rolls down his cheek.

Keith cups his chin, the panic rising as he sweeps his eyes over Lance’s body. “Are you hurt?”

Lance only manages to shake his head before he crumbles, burying himself into Keith’s chest with a sob. Keith wraps his arms around him, offering words of comfort and soothing touches even as his mind is whirling and spinning with unanswered questions.

But there’s a nagging thought at the back of his mind, similarities between Lance’s grief and distress and Keith’s own bottled emotions. 

He shoves that thought aside forcefully. No, it can’t be. He made a deal. 

“What am I gonna do?” Lance shudders through a breath against Keith’s chest, fists clenched in his shirt. “Dishonorably discharged. My family, I can’t—”

Keith’s heart tears apart with Lance’s sobs, his fears of what transpired confirmed. Rage and anguish rip and roll through him, warring for dominance in his veins as he holds Lance tighter.

Once he had been arrested, Keith knew the officers wouldn’t give up until he had fallen under their accusations. So he had bargained, made a deal to spare anyone associated with him from arrest and interrogation in return for his signed confession. To leave those he cared for alone to live freely in the service of their country without prosecution. He gave up willingly so that Lance may avoid such a fate.

And it had been all for naught.

“Those bastards,” Keith curses, hands clenching in Lance’s uniform as anger crawls up his throat, igniting a fire on his tongue. “I should have known. I should have fucking known.”

How could he have been so naive to think they would leave Lance alone if he quietly signed? They were ruthless, barbaric, without a care in the world who they hurt or the lives they destroyed in their witch hunt.

“Keith.” Lance shudders, pushing weakly against Keith’s hold.

Keith lets him go, sliding his hand down Lane’s shoulder and bicep until he’s clutching at his forearm in earnest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

He feels like the world is closing in, his whole future narrowing until all he can see is Lance. And right now, his future is breaking before his very eyes.

“Keith, please just—” but Lance doesn’t finish, his words swallowed up in a fresh wave of tears. He buries his face in Keith’s chest again.

And suddenly, Keith doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that his future is stained forever with a dishonorable discharge, that the door is open for all to witness this more than friendly interaction between two men. He doesn’t care that he has been suddenly and violently shoved out of the closet and into the arms of a society that wants nothing to do with his kind.

All that matters is Lance.

“It’s alright,” Keith soothes with words that hold little weight. But he’ll do whatever it takes to ensure they become true. “We’ll be alright.”

Lance shakes his head. “I can’t ever go home,” he mutters into Keith’s shirt.

And oh, that hurts, hearing Lance so convinced he’s lost the people he loves most. Keith feels it like a blow to his own heart. He grips Lance tighter. “Yes, yes you can. They’ll understand.” 

He’s heard all about Lance's family, from his supportive parents to his teasing brothers and sisters to his abuelita who cooks the most amazing foods. He’d talk for hours about all the nieces and nephews he left behind, how big they were getting, how much he missed their antics and pranks. How he wants kids someday and a big family, just like his own.

Keith wants to give him that. To give him the world. And he truly believes it’s still possible, despite all the circumstances and their unconventional relationship piling up against them. But Keith has never been one to back down from a challenge. Especially where Lance is involved.

Lance shoves against Keith’s chest until the grief in his eyes pierces Keith’s heart. “No, I can’t,” he says with another shake of his head. There’s a subtle hardness to his tone alluding to a simmering storm just beneath the surface. “I can’t face them. They’ll want to know why. They’ll know—”

“It’ll be alright,” Keith tries again, rubbing his hand in soothing circles on Lance’s shoulder.

Lance jerks out of Keith’s reach and the storm breaks the surface in his eyes. “How can you believe that?! Dishonorable discharge, that doesn't go away Keith!” In his periphery, Keith sees a cadet pause down the hall, his attention grabbed by their raised voices. He kicks the door shut. “That’s a black mark that follows you forever!” 

Keith knows, god, how he knows this. It’s been a weight on his shoulders since the whole investigation began. The consequences, the gruesome aftermath, the fallout if they were to be found out. And he had deemed the risk worth it. The happiness, the way his life for once, felt right. Complete. 

Lance was worth it.

But is Keith the only one in this relationship with no regrets?

Uncertainty bubbles in his chest.

“Then we’ll fight it.” Keith pours all the conviction and determination he can into his words. He’ll do whatever it takes to settle Lance back on more solid ground. To get him back into the arms of his family even if that means he loses Lance entirely. If it makes him happy, then so be it, his heart be damned. “We’ll make them reverse their ruling.”

All the fight drains out of Lance in a beat and he lowers dejected eyes to the floor. “I signed a confession. I had no choice, I just couldn’t take it anymore. The things they said, the threats, the slander. They grilled me for hours.”

“Hours?” Confusion pulls at Keith’s brow. “When were you arrested?”

But he already knows the answer before Lance even opens his mouth, dread a heavy stone sinking to the bottom of his stomach. 

“Right after you left for training,” Lance whispers. Keith closes his eyes, eviscerated. For once, he wishes he’d been wrong. “They said you told them I forced you.”

Keith snaps his eyes open. “No, Lance. No.” It feels like a physical blow as nausea roils through his stomach. He shakes his head, begging Lance to believe him. “I would never.”

Keith offers a hand, a silent question that holds so much weight.

“I know.” Lance takes his hand without hesitation and the tightness in Keith’s chest eases considerably as he gives it a squeeze. He ignores the lingering uncertainty. “God, I know that. They were wearing me down and it fucking worked. I just wanted it to end.”

“It’s over,” Keith says, voice weary but he only feels relief as his own words ring true. He tugs on their joined hands and Lance readily falls back into the comfort of his arms. “It’s done. We’re alright.”

There are more tears after that, from both of them as they stand in the middle of Lance’s room and soak up the solace and safety one another provides. Keith’s own walls crack under Lance’s soothing pressure before breaking entirely and he finds himself spilling his fears and unpacking the emotions he had been bottling up for Lance’s sake. 

And by the time their tears have mostly dried, their heavy hearts are a little lighter knowing they aren’t alone. That despite everything, they at least have each other.

Lance sniffles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “What are we going to do?” 

_ We _ . Any uncertainty, any doubts that had been lingering in Keith vanishes with that single word.

The smile he gives Lance is small, still weighted with fears but earnest in its conviction. “Anything you want. I’ll follow you wherever.”

Lance returns the smile. Watery though it is, Keith melts under its rays. And when he kisses him, it’s soft and tender, deepening as their overflowing emotions ignite something raw. Keith inhales sharply against Lance’s lips. God, how he had missed this. 

“West,” Lance breathes into Keith’s skin, their foreheads pressed together.

Keith hums. “West?”

“Yes.” Lance lets out a shy chuckle, his eyes a brilliant blue. “I’ve always wanted to go to San Francisco.”

Keith nods, having already agreed to whatever and wherever Lance wants to go before he had even answered. Shiro and Adam also journeyed west, according to the last letter Keith received, so if anything, they won’t be alone out there. And he knows that no matter where they go, eventually, he will ensure Lance sees his family again. For better or for worse, they have to try. 

Because this wasn’t the end, it was the beginning.

Their beginning.

He slid his hand into Lance’s, fingers lacing together with a squeeze. 

“Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: I know nothing of the Air Force so please excuse or let me know of any mistakes. There's only so much one can glean from Wikipedia.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. Comments, criticism, and corrections are all welcome and much appreciated.
> 
> Also, check out my Instagram for more Klance and VLD drabbles and short fics: [staymagwrites](https://www.instagram.com/staymagwrites/)


End file.
